


Girls Are Great

by tkp (lettered)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Feminist Themes, Gender Issues, Gender Related, Genderswap, M/M, Masturbation, Meta, Mutual Masturbation, Other, Porn, Power Dynamics, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-29
Updated: 2009-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettered/pseuds/tkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girl gets off.  Girl thinks about getting off.  Girl gets off again.  Girl just happens to be Spock, who used to be a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Are Great

**Author's Note:**

> ST isn't mine. There's one line from Wikipedia and several choice phrases by stultiloquentia in here.

When Jim and Spock first fucked, it was Jim's first time with a man. It had been new for both of them, and they worked out what worked for each other. Jim liked to lie back and be thrown around; he also liked to command and hold someone down. Spock liked a little of column A and a little of column B as well, so it all worked out.

They'd started on even ground and built themselves up together, and for Kirk that was novel and extremely fucking nice. Monogamy was new, too, and really interesting, way more than Kirk had thought it could be. He loved the challenge.

But sometimes he wished he still held all the cards.

It wasn't that there weren't women in the world who could easily match or break him. Heaven knew they were everywhere. But that didn't change that with a woman, you usually knew what was going to go where, unless there were toys involved. Jim had never been against toys on principle. But on principle, he was also mainly for his own cock.

And Jim _knew_ girls. Sometimes, he just missed them. Sometimes he missed them even at the same time as he wished he could show Spock that he might've started out sort of on square one in their bedroom, but in every other bedroom he'd've been a fucking expert.

So when the transporter turned Spock into a woman, everyone else laughed but Jim just got hard. Spock had the same haircut, same uniform—too loose, now. He had the same slim elegance and the same eyebrows and the same tight expression Jim loved to fuck completely up. But his face was smooth, narrower, more delicate, his lips fuller. His shoulders were more slender and his hips flared out, and the best part was on his chest were the tell-tale breasts.

"I fail to see the humor of the situation," Spock told them, as without inflection as ever, but amidst the laughter he sounded particularly chilly.

Scott wanted to get him a regulation female uniform. Jim thought of Spock's legs, the lean, hard, muscular, lightly dusted in black hair thighs he so loved, and thought of what they must be now. Softer, rounder, giving way—Spock in a skirt so short you could see where thighs ended and ass began—yes. Yes, please, Jim thought.

Spock glared at Scotty and told him his "current uniform would suffice, until you have ascertained the transporter malfunction. Unless repairs will extend an inordinate amount of time."

"They will," Scott said, "if it means you're going to be wearing a skirt."

"Then I will refrain, so as to ensure adequate performance of our chief engineer."

Scott looked chastened, but also still like he really wanted Spock in a skirt to happen in this universe.

Jim totally sympathized.

Meanwhile Bones wanted to examine Spock.

Jim totally sympathized all over again.

"I assure you, I retain my full capabilities as first officer," Spock told everyone. He had a girl's voice, too, even if it was husky and deep. And really fucking sexy. "The difference in my sex in fact has no bearing on my function aboard this vessel, or my relationships with any of you in a professional capacity. The difference is wholly personal. And private."

Someone sniggered, but Spock glared, or merely gazed unblinking which from Spock was way more cutting than a glare. So Spock gazed. And avoided Jim's eyes.

"Amen," Uhura said. "Tell it to Starfleet, sister."

"We bear no relation," Spock pointed out.

"Now we do," Uhura said. "Can we just have it kind of be a rule? That difference in sex doesn't change how we do our job? And not just whenever Spock gets girl parts."

"I have no plans of becoming female again."

Jim felt sort of sad at that.

Apparently Uhura did too. "Maybe everyone would remember it a little better if you did. And can we talk about regulation length of the skirts?"

It was true Spock was just as good at his job. Jim tried not to order him to do too many tasks that involved bending over. That would have been disrespectful. Besides, Uhura and Spock had this weird kind of understanding now, and Jim had learned long ago you didn't want to piss Uhura off.

Jim should have been jealous, considering her and Spock's whole past. Instead, he kept thinking that if Spock and Uhura had some special bond again now, well maybe they should go back to having sex with each other, except with way more Jim this time. What if Spock and Uhura were touching each others' breasts, God, and Spock wasn't wearing a bra, because of course he hadn't been wearing one before the transporter, _God_, what if Jim was fucking Spock's hot pussy while Spock ate out Uhura so Jim's face was in Uhura's—

Spock would say he was being sexist. Spock was always telling him he was sexist, even before this whole thing. Jim never understood. "I treat the ladies right," he insisted. It was just a fantasy. Spock was his and he wasn't _allowed_ to have sex with Uhura. It wasn't actually as if he could make Spock and Uhura do it anyway. Namely because rank didn't extend that far, but meanwhile Spock insisted the way he used the phrase, "the ladies" was, in fact, sexist.

"Persons of the female persuasion," Jim grumped.

"Officers," Spock told him. "Starfleet officers."

"Starfleet officer _girls_," Jim pointed out. Observantly, he thought.

They weren't going to start that argument now. Especially because even if Spock was a girl now he was still very much a Vulcan so way stronger. And wasn't _that_ nice, not just because Jim had always been turned on by a girl who could knock him flat, but that meant Spock's brand new . . . equipment had Vulcan muscles. As much as he loved Spock's given anatomy, Jim had to try that. He was _curious_. That wasn't sexist. Probably.

Spock seemed surprised by all of this. "You do not feel awkward?"

"Why would I feel awkward?"

"You frequently feel without attendant logic." Jim reached for him, but Spock kept his space. "However," Spock went on, "in this instance, your reluctance would be supported by several reasons."

"Well, you just said, I don't have to have a reason. Spock, I want to—" Spock was holding himself in his 'no touching' posture. Jim was hard, felt like he had been all day; he just wanted to grab Spock and have his manly way with him. But he dropped his hand and asked, "What's wrong?" instead.

Spock raised a brow. "The answer to your question is readily apparent," Spock replied.

Very readily. The bored, 'don't you know anything?' expression usually went straight to Jim's cock anyway, but on the sharp, feminine features Jim was so unused to, it looked like that much more invitation to fuck. "Scotty will get you turned back," Jim said finally, because Spock wasn't giving him anything to work with.

"I have no doubt."

"Are you worried it will feel weird?"

"I do not worry," Spock said, even though they both knew it wasn't true. Spock seemed to be getting his bearings, which was for Spock just having less of an expression than usual. "As you appear to be . . . eager to commence intimate relations, I must conclude that my altered anatomy not only does not repel you, but is, in fact, arousing to you. However, as you have expressed satisfaction with my natural anatomy in the past, you must understand my struggle to find the rationale behind why you would—"

"Shit. Spock." Jim did invade his space, then, no matter what the posture was telling him. He crowded, and Spock gave way, allowing himself to be pressed up against the wall of his quarters. He did not, however, relax.

"You think I'll want you less when you turn back?" Jim asked, breath against Spock's ear. He should have been less hard in the face of Spock's doubt, but he was only more so. "You think I won't still want your cock? Or maybe you think I won't like you as much _now_ as I think I will? That I won't like that nice little pussy you got. Is it both?"

Spock was looking away, maybe to give Jim his full ear, maybe because he just couldn't face him. Jim was pretty sure it was to expose his throat and the line of his jaw in that way he had, that way that made Jim need to lick and bite and pull skin into his mouth until it turned faintly green. "Fascinating," Spock breathed.

"I'm an insightful guy," Jim said between nibbles.

"I was not referring to your insights," Spock moved against him, exposing more throat, "though upon further analysis, they may prove correct." Spock was shifting his weight now, which _was_ fascinating, as Spock was usually very still, the movements he did make very purposeful. But now it was almost as if he was—fidgety.

Spock went on, "I was referring to differences in female anatomy which have only just now become observable by experience."

"Yeah?" Jim put a hand on Spock's hip to keep him still.

"The glands and walls surrounding the female orifice secrete a lubricating substance not only at the moment of penetration, but in preparation for it. As such, secretion may occur due to a sense of mental anticipation, rather than direct application of physical stimulus to the area."

Jim was still for a second. "Shit." He bit down on Spock's neck, hard, which caused Spock to adjust his position again, relaxing, if only a little bit. His posture was subtly—so subtly, it was still Spock—come hither. Even against the wall, he bid Jim come closer, his legs so slightly open for Jim to slip a hard thigh between, his face averted in that defiant, yet somehow submissive, way. "Shit," Jim said again. "You just said I made you wet."

Spock did not deny it. Delicate, feminine nostrils flared as Jim at last touched Spock's chest, the firm small breasts.

"Say it," Jim said. "Say I made you wet."

Spock's hands were against his sides. Jim could hear another breath, noisy and so soon after the last, when usually his intakes were invisible and steadily paced. Jim slipped the hand at Spock's hip down.

"I want you," Jim told him. "I want you no matter whether you're a girl or a boy or both, for Chrissake. I'd want you if you were a Klingon." His hand was between Spock's legs. His other hand cupped one of Spock's breasts. "I'd want you if you were a robot or one of those floaty green things in that nebula in the phi sector. And okay, maybe I wouldn't fuck you if you were a Tribble, but I'd sure damn try to think of a way how."

"That would be ill-advised."

Jim took his hand away.

Spock's voice sounded more strained than usual. "I was only referring to the dire consequences of Tribble reproduction."

"Good," Jim told him, and started opening Spock's pants. "I would want you anyway. But whatever happens, I want you the way you _are_. I fucking love your cock—"

"Your butchery of the English language," Spock began.

"But since it's here, I fucking want your cunt." Jim's hand was in Spock's pants now, cupping his mound, a hard, hot pressure, a promise. "Now say it."

"You make me wet," Spock said immediately, his voice sounding scraped all the way up from where Jim's fingers were, and Jim obligingly dipped his fingers in to test Spock's words. Spock made a sound, and still couldn't look at Jim.

He was warm and wet and really, very soft. Jim explored with gentle fingers. When he found Spock's clit, he brushed it with his thumb.

"This is—" Spock jerked once, then contained himself—"this, it's—fascinating."

"Yeah." Jim kept his thumb near the clit, his fingers carefully stroking Spock's folds, middle finger pushing in at last. "Yeah, it is. My hand's getting soaked."

"Jim." Spock's voice was so low and guttural it sounded almost like a man's voice, his natural voice.

Jim curled his fingers in response, another finger hooked inside while the rest kept touching those folds, his thumb rubbing up against Spock's clit. Then he found the spot, and Spock writhed. He fucking writhed, which he never did, so Kirk twisted fingers inside him, adjusting his hand so the heel of it pressed against Spock's clit. He found that spot again.

Spock finally looked at him, eyes snapping open and widening. "Oh," was all he said, his hips bucking once. It was small; that was all.

"Nice," Jim told him. He pulled his fingers out of Spock, wet and sticky. "You were very nice."

Spock was taking quick breaths, so obviously seeking to even them out.

It made him look vulnerable somehow. He was usually a hair taller than Jim, but now he was a hair shorter. The dark eyes were nearly black, so large in the piquant face. It was because Spock normally knew what he was doing, Jim concluded. Their first time together had been both of their first times with men, but at least Spock had known his own body, known what it wanted and what it could do.

Now Jim really did have all the cards.

He hastily began to take off Spock's clothes. Spock was attempting to similarly dispense with Jim's, but he was not quite as deft and efficient at this as normal. It could be that different hands and different reflexes just took some getting used to. Or it could be he was still recovering from what Jim's fingers had provoked inside him.

As if to explain, Spock began, "I was unaware it would be so . . ."

At last Spock had Jim's shirt off, and Jim had Spock naked. He was beautiful, though that wasn't a word Jim usually used for the male version. But Spock stood there looking so slender and dark and sharp in the shadows, the bright parts of him austere in hard light. His breasts were perfect, the size of a handful, just the way Jim liked them, and he should have known Girl Spock would have been everything he liked: wet, confused, and a little uncertain, addressing that confusion and uncertainty with clinical curiosity and wonder.

Jim cupped one of his breasts with his hand again. His thumb brushed a nipple, circling gently, not too long before he had to taste, and he dipped his head. "You didn't know it would be so what?" he asked, lifting his head after a moment.

Spock was looking slightly unfocussed. It was a rare thing during sex; usually his focus was intense. "You may continue," Spock said absently, not answering Jim's question.

Jim smiled, and commenced sucking on the nipple. He was still very hard, but Scott was probably going to get that transporter fixed soon enough, and Jim wanted the little time they had for this not to end too quickly.

"The function of the breast is to provide nourishment for off-spring," Spock said after a moment of Jim sucking one breast while his hand palmed the other. Spock's voice was strained. "The primary anatomical requirements are glands and fat. There is no reason there should also be so many nerves concentrated in such a—"

Jim gave a hard suck, then scraped ever so gently with his teeth as he pulled off, which made Spock shut up. "Girls are great," Jim agreed. "Let's fuck."

"I believe the area is still too sensitive for direct stimulus to be app—"

"It isn't. But I won't. Don't worry. I won't 'direct stimulus' that area for a minute or two." Jim found Spock's sex and dipped his fingers in again.

"Directly stimulate," Spock objected. "But—"

"This feels alright, doesn't it?"

Spock considered a moment. "Yes. But—"

"Just gonna get inside you." Jim was taking off his pants. "Not gonna touch your clit yet. You'll just take my cock. It's going to be great; you'll see. And then when I come I'm going to—_directly stimulate_—you, I'm gonna finger that nice clit until you get _too sensitive_ all over again."

Spock twitched. His face was averted, exposing that line of feminine jaw. "When you speak," his voice was straining for stability, "the vagina's preparations for your entry increase in volume. It is most—"

"Yeah," Jim said. "Shit." He positioned himself at Spock's entrance. "It gets you wetter."

"It . . . increases my wish that you . . . it is most—"

"Say it."

"Most motivating." For Spock, this was akin to verbal flailing.

"You're fucking drenched for it."

Spock at last looked at him again, his dark eyes comparatively huge. "I am sufficiently primed."

Jim pushed in. Whatever flub in the transporter that had made Spock female for the time being had apparently not flubbed it enough to make him a virgin, which as a man Spock definitely hadn't been. Jim had time to spare a thank-god for that, and buried himself slow but deep inside Spock. "Fuck," he said. "Fucking fuck, you're gorgeous, Spock. You're fucking gorgeous."

Spock was holding onto him tightly. He often did during intercourse, but not in such a way, as if he could not hold himself upright of his own power. "I concur," he said.

"Tight," Jim said, pulling out. He pushed back in. "Wet. Spock. Fuck. You're so goddamn tight. Spock, you're fucking perfect."

"I—" Jim pushed in again, and Spock's voice faltered. His eyes still seemed too large. "I—I concur," he repeated.

Spock was more at a loss than Jim had ever seen him. Hopefully Scotty didn't get that transporter fixed _too_ soon. Maybe Jim could go through. They could fondle each other's breasts and eat each other out, and, God, Jim had never cared for toys, but there had never been a need so _obvious_ for a double headed dildo, and then Spock could get his cock back and fuck Jim's cunt and fuck Jim's breasts and fuck Jim _through the floor_, and it had to be this good, this had to be, had to be as wonderful and wet and warm for Spock as it felt for Jim just now. "Tell me," Jim grunted. "What it—feels like—"

"This is sufficiently—you are sufficiently—"

"Fucking you," Jim said, because he was, albeit rather slowly. Obligingly he sped up. "Tell me the rest. I wanna know what that cunt's like, taking me, opening up for me, you're all warm and wet and strong, Spock, you're fucking strong, but you're so fucking tight and, shit, shit, you're _soft_—"

Spock was clutching him now, holding Jim's head as Jim fucked him against the wall. He lifted a thigh to wrap around Jim, and Jim hoisted him up, Spock's legs wrapped around his back as he fucked him. The angles were all different now, and Jim had never fucked him like this. "Tell me," Jim repeated. "Tell me what I feel like to you."

"You are large."

"Yeah, yeah, that's damn right. Tell me."

"You are—holding me up."

"Yeah, what's it feel like, keep going."

"You are—fully aroused: hard, firm, and—I feel as though I have . . . reverted to liquid, and, and you are all that . . . Jim—"

"You ready, honey?" because that's what Jim said to girls.

Spock said, "Oh," again, maybe hearing that sweetness Jim usually never used for him, or maybe because Jim was hitting that spot now, and bringing his hand up to find Spock's clit.

"That's it," Jim said, fucking hard now, moving his hand against Spock's sex, finding that clit as he pushed him into the wall, "just like that, you take it, you take it baby, just like that, tell me honey, tell me—"

"F-faster," said Spock, who had never stuttered in his life, and Jim lost it.

He spent himself inside of Spock, thrusting over and over and over again. Somewhere in there he pinched Spock's clit, hard, and Spock cried out. At last Jim was slowing down, and one of Spock's legs was slipping down his back, back down to the floor.

Jim caught his breath, kissed Spock's shoulder, and said, "You come?" because it was harder to tell with girls.

Spock's mouth was slack, his eyes unfocussed; he hardly ever looked this debauched after; generally the expression was smug. "I believe—I think so," Spock told Jim.

"You think so?" Jim laughed.

Spock shut his mouth and scowled, which mostly meant he arranged his face into its ordinary expression. "I experienced—it's different. I am . . . satisfied," he began again.

"Let's make sure," Jim grinned, and slid down to his knees.

"No." Spock yanked on his hair. "I cannot. So soon after—"

"This is the best part. Yes you can." He put his mouth on Spock's cunt.

He didn't bother to finesse it. His tongue quickly found Spock's clit and began to work it, worked it while Spock clutched his hair and said, "I do not believe this is entirely comfor—_Jim_," and suddenly bucked his hips under Jim's grasp, up into Jim's face. Jim kept going, sucking and twirling and fucking until Spock bucked again, and again, and again.

Jim was pretty sure that was Spock coming. Jim didn't stop.

He brought his hand up to fondle Spock's cunt again, pushing his fingers in to find the spot again. Spock's thighs, not to mention his sex, were drenched by now, and trembling. Jim drew one leg over his shoulder to help Spock balance, still swirling his tongue around Spock's clit, with Spock saying,

"Jim, that was my—I already—" something about _peak intensity_, "twice, already," and Jim resented the fact Spock could even _say_ the word 'intensity' at this point, but it was Spock, so Jim kept going, "I have already—achieved—_multiple_—" What followed was something like a feminine grunt, which Jim considered an accomplishment, because it was _still Spock_, and then, "More, Jim. Please."

He hadn't actually known Spock could become incoherent, but his other orgasms had been little ones, the kind Jim had seen girls ride out and come out the end ready for another, but this one was going to be big, really big, and Spock's knees were shaking so hard Jim brought Spock's other leg up on his shoulder.

Spock was too heavy, it wasn't going to work, because Spock still had a Vulcan skeleton even if it was a female's, but Jim didn't care, he was the Captain, dammit, and it was Spock, and Spock _didn't beg_, and Jim wanted, Jim wanted to hear him beg—

Jim slid his wet, sticky hand back to Spock's familiar-and-not-familiar ass, finding the hole back there and working the tight ring of muscle with a wet finger, his other hand coming up to thrust fingers up Spock's cunt, hunting for his g-spot, while his mouth still worked Spock's clit because Jim was _just that good_—

Spock came explosively.

He arched into Jim's mouth, pubes hitting Jim's jaw so hard it ached, dropping more weight in all the wrong ways onto Jim's shoulders, but Jim held on, he held on and on and on, because Spock was making such a funny sound, such a funny, musical, sort of keening, alien, almost sad sound, not as loud as you would think but ripped from somewhere Spock would like everyone to think he didn't have.

Then at last when that sound stopped there were only harsh breaths that came in gulps, that sounded too much like a woman crying, which Jim was actually very used to considering how hard he could make a lady come, but he had to keep telling himself, this was Spock.

It was Spock, so he wouldn't let Jim pick him up and take him to the bed, but they stumbled there, and landed with Jim on top, Spock looking up at him.

Spock wasn't crying, just gulping, straight bangs for the first time making him look very young, maybe because his eyes were so large and somehow confused in that sharp and so-loved face. Those pupils searched out Jim, Jim whose whole face was wet from the nose down with undoubtedly bruised lips, Jim who was ready to go again already because this was Spock, and if he could, Jim wanted to fuck that confusion right out of his face.

Jim kissed him then, really long and hard, with tongue, and Spock wasn't completely spent the way he looked; he was desperate, barely holding onto something Jim didn't understand. Spock's tongue wrapped around Jim's the way his arms did, clutching him. After several long, slow moments, Jim pulled away. For a moment, Spock didn't realize Jim was disentangling himself, and clung closer, then pulled back with a jerk. Spock looked the same as ever, but there was still confusion in his eyes.

"The secretions do not taste as acrid as I had anticipated," Spock said, as if was the epitome of his disorientation.

"That's true," Jim told him, trying not to sound too gentle, because—it was Spock. "You taste really good."

Here, at least, was a familiar argument. Spock latched onto it. "You say the same of my ejaculate. I fail to see why your tongue's flavor sensors would, from an evolutionary standpoint, have developed—"

Jim was playing with Spock's breasts again. "Don't say sensors in bed."

Spock paused while Jim squeezed them together and ran his tongue between them. "Why?"

"You say it funny. Your come tastes good, your cunt is delicious, and I'm going to fuck your tits."

There was another pause, which sounded to Jim like curiosity. "You cannot, as you put it 'fuck my tits'. The anatomy is not suited to—"

"You can say 'fuck my tits' as much as you want, though," Jim allowed.

"Are you under the impression that my female anatomy gives you an authority over me which you did not previously possess?" Spock said. "I can assure you that is not the case. The sex of an individual has no bearing on his or her dominant or submissive tendencies, and therefore in my present condition, power dynamics _should_ remain un—"

"You've got such great tits." Jim was kneeling over Spock, squeezing his breasts together. "I always possessed authority over you," he added. "I just didn't use it."

"To my understanding—"

"Spock, I'm not sexist. You've got girl-parts and you're strong and I respect you and I don't get to order you around or make you bend over a lot on the bridge even though I really really wanted to." Jim paused in his squeezing, then positioned his cock between Spock's breasts again. "Okay, maybe I'm a little sexist. But you should know, I really want to fuck your tits, and you'll probably like it if I fuck you tits, so we should just stop debating now, because I'm going to fuck your tits."

Spock was quiet.

"What's that?" Jim said, still holding his cock there between Spock's breasts.

"I give you my permission."

"What for?"

Spock raised a brow, and never knew how close he came to having Jim's come all over his face. "You may perform intercourse with my mammary glands, should you so desire."

"You're fucking sexy," Jim told him, and proceeded to fuck Spock's tits.

Spock watched him as he did it with far too much interest, curiosity a bright little gleam in his dark eyes Jim so loved.

"Fascinating?" he asked Spock, after several thrusts.

"Yes," Spock said, sounding wondering. "The areas to which you are providing friction are not particularly sensitive for me." Spock's hands were on Jim's thighs, back arching as Jim slid his cock between his breasts. "You are providing me with no direct stimulation."

"I can," Jim said. He was not in a good position to reach between Spock's legs, but he could circle his thumbs slowly over Spock's nipples. So he did.

"You mistake my meaning," Spock gasped.

Spock didn't really gasp, Jim thought, and realized something. "It's turning you on."

"I—" Spock's breath caught again as Jim's cock slid between his breasts. "I believe that is what the volume of secretions indicate."

"You like me using you."

Spock's jaw was hanging slightly open now. His voice was a whisper. "The bed is getting wet."

Jim groaned, moving above Spock's chest. "You love it," he repeated.

Spock's eyes were huge as he watched Jim move. "I do not know why."

"You're a _slut_ for it." Jim was shuddering.

"You are approaching your climax." Spock's voice was still that raw whisper.

"Yeah," Jim said. "Hang on, Spock."

Then he was moving down Spock's body, and Spock was saying, "What are you—"

"Just gonna do you too, honey," and then Jim slid inside Spock again. "You really are drenched for it, aren't you, just like a good little slut, wetting the bed for it." Jim moved his hand down to find Spock's clit. Spock's whole pussy was wet and messy, the way Jim liked it, almost too wet for friction, but he knew what to do. "You're soaking," he told Spock. "Such a good slut for me."

Spock clung to him, and arched, and came as Jim twisted his clit, while Jim at last released himself inside of Spock once more.

Then there was soft sleepy kissing and Spock so warm and messy and spent, and Jim pulled him close the way he did with girls but not with Spock since Spock didn't usually let him, except Spock let him, so he did. Jim closed his eyes, and thought the transporter could break any time, if such great things were going to happen.

*

That wasn't the end.

Jim hadn't expected the transporter to get fixed overnight. He hadn't expected to wake up and find Spock changed back. But he also hadn't expected for Spock still being a girl to be an issue. He'd expected things to go back to normal, because really, what else was there?

Jim had licked Spock's vulva, and put his cock in Spock's cunt, and fucked Spock's tits. As far as Jim was concerned, that covered the different stuff you could do with girl parts that you couldn't do with guy parts. Now the novelty had worn off, Jim didn't see what the big deal was.

There didn't seem to be much new to explore or discuss. In fact, going on about it seemed to really be drawing things out. They'd already reached the climax (several times). Now came the resolution and conclusion: pussy was neat.

Should be all she wrote.

But it wasn't, and that just went to show that girls couldn't just get off. Most of them had to talk about it, too.

"There's more to female identity than sex," Uhura said.

"I know that." Jim frowned. Most of the others in the rec room had cleared out. He was left with Uhura, waiting for chess and Spock. "But we don't really have to deal with female identity, because Spock isn't going to stay a girl. Unless he wants to," Jim realized. He didn't think he'd mind if Spock wanted to stay a girl. He liked Spock's pussy about as much as he liked Spock's cock, and Spock would still be _Spock_. "That would be a different story."

Uhura snorted. "Convenient, isn't it?" she said. "You've essentially got a mechanism for enjoyment of the female body, without having to deal with any issues females face. Tie it up with a bow, why don't you."

Spock often accused Jim of being sexist, too. Jim tried to understand; he really did, but he'd always thought guys and girls were pretty much the same. They had different strengths and capabilities and reactions to things, but both could be leaders and starship captains and incredible in bed. "Is this about regulation length of skirts?" Jim finally asked.

Uhura gave him a look. "In part."

"I sort of thought that was a one-liner." As in: Spock turned into a girl, everyone made jokes about it, Jim had wild crazy sex with him. The end.

"Of course you did," Uhura said mildly. She was taking out the lyre Spock had loaned her. "You're not used to thinking of what women face every day. You're used to thinking of what we face in the bedroom. You're pretty liberal minded, Captain," she said, because Jim was beginning to protest. "But do you see how such an emphasis on the difference of our sex organs can place the value on our vaginas rather than women as people? Do you see how that's a problem?"

"Look," Jim said in a conciliatory way. "I'm trying really hard not to be sexist here. I can't help it I like legs, okay? If I had it my way, we'd probably all be wearing skirts."

Uhura shrugged. "Men should be able to wear skirts, if they want."

Jim thought that was the most brilliant thing ever.

So he submitted a report to Starfleet about skirts. Meanwhile Scott kept working on the transporter. While wearing a kilt. Spock and Jim had not had sex since Spock first turned into a girl, and Jim was beginning to worry it was because Spock thought he was sexist.

"I have come to the conclusion that I am sexist," Spock said, when they were alone again in Spock's quarters.

"You," Jim said in surprise, sitting on the side of Spock's bed. "How?"

"I was more emotive during the act of copulation than I have been in the past," Spock said. He was standing near where he had come in by the door, and had not dimmed the computer's lights to their evening setting. The light made even his feminine face look harsh. "At first," Spock went on, "I concluded my altered body chemistry was responsible for such a display."

"I guess it's possible," Jim said. He was going to take off his shoes. He liked to make himself at home here, because Spock did. Spock had his Vulcan things about, the few things he had left, which was actually a lot more décor than you would expect from someone so reserved. Except Spock didn't look at home. Maybe because he was a girl now. Jim didn't take off anything. "Girls do have different hormones and stuff," Jim added. "But I've known some girls who don't emote much; it doesn't make them any less—girly."

Spock nodded. "Then you see how I inaccurately attributed my behavior to my femininity. Additionally, I was far more comfortable being submissive to you in this female body than I have ever been in my own male body."

"That's definitely not a result of being a girl," Jim said. Off Spock's raised brow, Jim explained, "Sure, I've know lots of girls who lie back and take it, and really like it that way. But I've also known girls who love to be in control. It doesn't have anything to do with having a dick."

"Again, I agree," Spock said. "However, my level of comfort indicates I felt such behavior more 'natural' in my female body. The only logical conclusion I can draw is that I hold an unconscious belief that submission is somehow more suitable or permissible in females, and that this unconscious belief influenced my behavior."

"Oh." Jim stood up. Somehow sitting on Spock's bed with Spock standing there looking like that didn't seem right. "That seems . . . unlikely."

"That is to say nothing of my debasement," Spock continued. "You employed terms derogatory to the female sex, such as 'slut' and the word 'cunt'. Furthermore, the act of using my mammary glands to stimulate your sex organ left me in a passive role. I was a mere vehicle for your pleasure."

The sick feeling coalesced in Jim's stomach. He hadn't meant those things that way. For him, sex was just sex. When you were with a willing and equal partner, you did what you wanted and sometimes you did what he wanted, and that was all there was to it. But Spock was always more given to analysis. Jim loved that about him, and yet, certain things didn't bear scrutiny. "Spock—"

"I enjoyed it."

Jim's stomach flip-flopped. "Spock?" he repeated faintly.

Spock tilted his head, the only slightly softer jaw still making a sharp line. "I enjoyed it to an illogical degree, as again, you were providing no direct stimulation. In fact, I wished you to follow the act to its logical end by ejaculating on my face, which you yourself avoided. I derived pleasure from what I perceived as despoilment, violation, and degradation."

Despite the things Spock was saying, all Jim could feel was concern. Spock's hands were by his sides in that awkward way he had when he didn't know what to do with them. They were strong, elegant, capable hands, and Jim had always admired them. Now they almost fidgeting.

Not everything was about sex. Not even when Spock was talking about wanting him to come on his face.

As Jim concentrated on Spock's hands, Spock went on speaking. "This, my attitude of submission, and my emotionalism all surfaced as a result of my altered sex. Their manifestation at this particular time suggests an unconscious belief in the natural inferiority of my current state."

"So that's why you've been avoiding me," Jim said slowly, bringing his eyes up to Spock's.

"It is logical to rid one's self of such abhorrent prejudice." Spock took one step closer. "I have not been avoiding you, Jim."

"You've just been avoiding getting off," Jim concluded.

"I have been avoiding behavior which will actualize my bigotry."

Apparently avoiding said behavior meant hovering near the door of his own room when he got off-shift and staying as far away as possible from the bed. "Okay," Jim said. "A couple things." He held Spock's eyes, his jaw was set. "First: you didn't do any of those things because you have breasts or a vagina now. Let's get that out of the way."

"Agreed," Spock said. His voice was quick and clipped, the way it was when he was tense. "The fact that these tendencies only became apparent with the alteration of my anatomy is what I find problematic."

"Okay," Jim said again. "Second. None of these things indicate inferiority. None of them are bad or wrong, or even mean you're less in control." He held up a hand to Spock's opening mouth and closing fists. "Let me talk."

Spock inclined his head.

"Degradation," Jim announced. "There's nothing wrong with liking it. That may be hard to grasp, because humiliation is humiliating—don't tell me that's a tautology. You may enjoy the feeling of shame, but you shouldn't be ashamed of it. Submission," Jim said next. "It says nothing about your capabilities, or your ability to take control. It is a bedroom preference—which doesn't have to be consistent, by the way. Emotionalism," Jim concluded.

"Our views on this topic differ," Spock interrupted.

"I'm well aware of that. But showing your emotions doesn't indicate a lack of control. I show you my emotions. It's not because I can't control them."

"You do not choose to." Spock's mouth was a flat, unhappy line. For the first time since he'd stepped off the transporter, Jim noticed how ill-fitting the men's clothes were on Spock's now womanly body, sagging in the wrong places. Spock's hair was severe, making his face sharper than ever. Jim thought it was as sexy as Spock had ever looked.

"I don't know why being as you are now causes you to act this way," Jim told him. "But since it does, isn't that an opportunity to explore?"

"I have no wish to explore attitudes which I consider debasing."

"Why not? Of course you wouldn't where it could actually debase someone," Jim said. "But with each other some things are okay. Like asking for what we want and acting on our desires. That's a part of being equal."

"It is not a part of being Vulcan."

"What about being female? You've always felt the need to analyze, Spock. Let's do it. I wanted to find stuff out with you," Jim admitted. "I'm used to holding all the cards. I feel really comfortable with women, like I know what to do. But I never knew with you. I wanted to show you that even if I'm inexperienced in other things, I'm experienced at this."

Jim came closer. Spock stayed where he was, staring at him with those dark eyes up from under those straight black bangs. "I know pussy," Jim said, and shrugged. "I know tits. I know how to get a lot of girls off, and I know what I like. Do you?"

Spock's eyes widened, his breath almost imperceptibly quickening, but otherwise his only response was, "What has become apparent is that I like things which are demeaning towards women."

Jim knew he could step closer. Spock's eyes would get darker, his nostrils would flare. Jim thought he could probably seduce Spock with all this new information; he could demean Spock all up right here and they'd probably both really enjoy themselves.

Jim stayed where he was. "What do you want me to do?"

Nothing changed in Spock's expression, but something gentled. It wasn't because he was a girl now. Spock just seemed softer to Jim sometimes. Spock had told Jim on multiple occasions his imagination constructed the expression. To Jim he looked that much more gentle when he told him this. "I would ask that you understand this postponement in our sexual relations while I attempt to reconcile myself to some of these issues," Spock said. "Time and space, I believe, is the usual human request."

Jim tried not to look disappointed. "You mean you want to wait until you turn back into a guy?"

"I do not know," Spock said, but now a glint of humor entered his eyes. "However, I would encourage you to consider this interval without coitus less as a cessation and more as something of an entr'acte. Mr. Scott has installed a subroutine to repair the transporter, which will require beta testing. Before he is finished, my findings may require similar."

In other words, _let me try out my own pussy, and then you can play with it all you want._

Jim brightened immediately, and came closer. "When you put it that way."

"Time, Jim," Spock said.

"And space." Jim kissed him, and left Spock's room.

Alpha testing commenced on Scotty's subroutine. Another shift ended; Spock played his lyre while Uhura sang, then he played chess with Jim, and then they didn't go have sex. Instead Spock excused himself, Uhura stayed picking out things on the lyre, and Jim stayed looking at the pawns and queens. "My report on the uniform regs got pushed," Jim told her. "Women are allowed to wear the same thing as guys now."

"You might want to start assuming Communications reads the transmissions we assemble for your review." Uhura smiled down at her instrument. "Thanks, by the way."

Jim tried not to look at Uhura's legs too much. He thought it might get his own legs in trouble, particularly the kneecaps. But she had all five miles of them out today when she could just as easily have put them away. With effort, he brought his eyes up to her face.

Her mouth was quirked at him, she was strumming that lyre, and shit, she looked like Spock. Not Girl Spock either. Raised Eyebrow Spock, _Jim, I know what you are thinking, and I think you are an ass_, Spock. "Nice gams," Jim told her deliberately.

Uhura laughed. "I like legs too."

"Then what's the big deal?" Jim asked.

"Choice."

"So you don't care I'm sort of hoping I'll be able to see up your skirt when you stand up?"

Uhura rolled her eyes. "You won't," she told him, and he didn't, when she stood up. "If all you can think about is my legs, maybe that's a problem," she told him, packing up the lyre again. "But at least I get to choose now who looks at them. Which means if I'm showing them, I want people to look."

Jim looked at the chessboard, where Spock had sacrificed checkmate in order to queen his pawn. Spock was going a little heavy on the symbolism during this whole entr'acte thing, but Jim was trying to understand. He looked back to Uhura. "It just seems like choosing the uniform that was the default sorta defeats the purpose."

Uhura raised her brows. "Maybe it subverts it."

"Always did think subversion was sort of sexy," Jim offered.

"It's like this," Uhura said, looking down at the three-D chess. "Regulation mini-skirts really objectify women. At the same time, in many times and cultures, it's taboo for women to reveal themselves, to desire and want to be desired, to exhibit their sexuality in any way."

"So you wear one to turn it around the taboos and stereotypes," Jim said. "So you can own it."

"No." Uhura picked up Jim's king and tossed it at him, giving him a wicked smile over her shoulder as she walked out. "I wear one because I _like_ mini-skirts."

When Jim got back from the rec room to his quarters, Spock was waiting for him. He had the lights on evening settings, but the console was up and running. Spock was sitting at it, skilled hand running through some commands when Jim came in. "Hey," Jim said, "how long are intermissions supposed to be?"

"Three thousand, seventy-one words," Spock said without turning around.

"Words?"

"I am reading a report contained in the computer files about female sexual behaviors. There are four hundred and eight words remaining."

Jim went and sat in one of the comfortable chairs, turning it so he could see Spock's face as Spock scanned the screen. "I have some words for you," Jim said, after a moment. "They go like this: cunt and slut." Spock raised his brow, and otherwise kept reading his report. Jim went on, "What if those words are demeaning because women aren't supposed to want shit?"

Spock turned a fraction, inclining his head toward Jim. "Are you suggesting that by admitting a desire for such vocabulary, I am negating its intent?"

"No." Jim grinned. "I'm saying you want what you want."

Spock turned back. "You have been speaking to Lieutenant Uhura."

"Yeah. Apparently, she doesn't like pants."

"The situations are not analogous," Spock pointed out.

Jim chuckled, leaning back in his chair. Spock's face was so stern and serious, lit up by that vidscreen. "How many words are left now?"

Instead of replying, Spock flipped a switch. The clear, feminine voice of the computer filled the room. "Unlike the penis, which is homologous to the clitoris, the clitoris does not contain the distal portion of the urethra," the computer informed them. "Therefore, research concludes the sole function of the clitoris is sexual pleasure."

"Hot damn," Jim said. "She wants us to have sex, too."

"The computer is not a 'she'."

Jim shrugged. "If you want to be picky about it, neither are you."

Spock looked at the computer. The computer glowed back at him. "Your argument is biased, and thus flawed," Spock said, standing up. He came over to stand before Jim. "You are championing the merits of physical gratification, in hopes that I will agree to coitus, whereby you mean to physically gratify yourself."

"I'm arguing the merits of physical gratification because it doesn't have to have any merit whatsoever." Jim looked up at Spock. "You can just do it. I can just do it. We can do it together, if we want to share what gets us off. If words are what turns you on, I could just make a document and you could call it up whenever you felt like it. For no other reason than I felt like giving it to you, and you felt like getting off." Jim made an airy gesture at the vidscreen. "I could put it on the computer, if you and her need some time alone together."

Spock moved closer, still standing, with Jim in that chair. "That will not be necessary."

"Really? Because I think the most _logical_ way of finding out what gets you off is by getting you off, so maybe you should try it." Spock was coming closer, so Jim had to tilt his head back to look at him.

"I agree," Spock said. "The interval is over."

Spock was between Jim's legs, standing over him, looking down at him, and the only thing Jim could think to say was, "Oh."

"I wish to choose the words," Spock said. "I shall choose what you will call me."

"Okay," Jim started to say.

"I am not finished." Spock put a hand in Jim's hair, pulling back Jim's head to look him in the eyes. "I will not submit to you unless I choose. I will not emote unless I choose."

Oh holy _fuck_, except Jim couldn't resist the quip. "I won't come on your face unless you choose?"

"We are in agreement." Spock let go of his hair.

"Hell yeah," breathed Jim. He thought Spock would probably swat his hands away if he put his hands on his brand new hips. So Jim put his hands on Spock's brand new hips, because that was hot. "You gonna find out what turns you on?" he asked Spock. "You gonna get yourself off?"

"Yes," Spock said, and pulled away. "You may watch."

"Shit." Jim watched with round eyes as Spock backed up from the chair. "You're going to—"

Spock took off his shirt with the same quick efficiency he could always employ to drop a human opponent to his knees. His breasts were free and rested naturally against Spock's chest; Spock made no effort to cover them. He folded his shirt neatly and was already beginning on his pants.

When Spock was naked, he hesitated for a moment, then went to the bed. Jim was in the chair facing it, watching avidly as Spock sat on the bed and appeared to take stock of his own body. "Fuck," Jim said, and he was already hard, "fuck, you've got fabulous tits."

"They appear to be sufficient," Spock said, and lifted one of them. He was looking curiously down at it as he tested and squeezed, his other hand coming up. "I mean to determine the best way to stimulate the nipple," he said, and Jim just kept getting harder.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed.

"I do not see how that ancient Earth deity factors into anything."

"I don't know," Jim said. "Don't stop touching yourself."

Spock did his little frown, which Jim had learned was the minute crease between his brow, and let go of his breath. The line deepened a fraction as Spock stared down. "The weight of these appears inconvenient," he observed, the flesh swinging slightly.

Jim dug his hand into his thigh. "Be careful with them."

"Why?" Spock said. "They are mine."

Then he was cupping both of them with both hands, squeezing them together, and Jim said, "Christ," again.

Then Spock's focus drifted downward. His hands slid from his breasts again, and he spread his legs. His hand stopped at his pubic hair, and he looked at Jim. "I do not feel the excess of secretion as I did before," he observed. Long pale fingers dipped in to check, and Jim had to adjust himself in his chair. "The vulva is only slightly damp, causing contact to be—" The line appeared between Spock's brows again, then quickly disappeared. Spock took his hand away. "It is moderately uncomfortable."

Jim's legs were open wide now, to give his dick the most room. It was _more_ than moderately uncomfortable. "You need more foreplay," he told Spock, swallowing. "Sometimes it doesn't—you know there's lube in the drawer."

Spock's eyes slanted directly to Jim's cock, and then over to the drawer. Then he looked back down at himself, the thatch of dark kinky hair and what his wide open legs revealed. "The first time, I did not require additional lubricant. In fact, there was such an excess of moisture, it seemed possible that I would be unable to generate the necessary friction for my own stimulation."

"God, Spock, touch your tits again."

Spock raised a brow, then slowly moved his hand up to lift a breast for Jim again.

"Pinch your nipple with the other hand," Jim told him. "Not too hard, just like that." Spock was complying, his hands at his breast while he looked down at it with perplexed interest. "Scrape your nail around the—not the middle, you're going to hurt yourself—around the edge of—"

"It's called the areola."

"I know, shit, Spock, just like that. Now you keep those fingers fondling that nipple, but bring your other hand up to your mouth, put two fingers in—"

Spock's fingers were paused at his lips. "You do realize by directing my actions, you are removing agency from me."

"Suck on them," Jim said. "It's fucking hot."

"The point of this exercise is to determine the behaviors which might stimulate me, which I have not allowed myself the opportunity to explore as of yet."

With effort, Jim looked away from where Spock's fingers were still playing with his nipple, back up to Spock's face. "Yeah," Jim agreed. "It's to get you off. Put your fingers in."

Spock held Jim's eyes, opened his mouth, and put his fingers in.

Jim heard himself make a sound in his throat somewhere, so he had to touch himself.

Spock's eyes immediately flew down to that spot of contact, Jim's hand on his dick through his pants. Spock pushed his fingers in his mouth more deeply, and then Jim could see the almost invisible flutter of lashes, the almost not-there indication of Spock's eyes rolling slightly back, the indication of Spock fucking loving that what he was doing was getting Jim off. "Keep sucking," Jim told him, hand still on his cock, and Spock sucked harder.

"Now take them out," Jim directed. "Touch your other tit with them. The one you haven't touched yet. It's going to—" Spock's eyes flew open wide as he did as Jim said. "—be cold. Spread it around, get it wet," Jim said.

Spock did it. He was touching both breasts gently with both hands, fingers gently swirling and pinching and stroking the nipples. His expression didn't seem to change, and yet there were tells—the loosening jaw, widening eyes, and Jim already knew that meant Spock was getting wet. The point seemed proven when Spock's hand drifted down from a breast, over the abdomen, between his legs.

Jim's mouth was dry, and he found himself craning forward; he could see the back of Spock's hand, the wrist, fingers dipping down past the hair. But as Spock touched himself, Jim could read more tells, of Spock perplexed, slightly displeased.

"What's up?" Jim asked. His cock was so hard in his pants it hurt, but his voice was soft.

"Vulcan finger-tips are very sensitive. Combined with the number of nerve-endings situated in the clitoris—"

"Shit," Jim said, because Spock had just said 'clitoris'. Jim winced. "Too much. Use the backs of your fingers. And your knuckles."

Spock's hand changed its position, and then began to move. Spock was looking down at it, his breathing harder. "Effective," he whispered, and it was Spock petting his own _pussy_, his hand between his legs and his eyes staring down at his cunt like it was the most fascinating, incomprehensible thing he had ever seen.

Jim shifted in his chair. "Now put your fingers in your—" He cut himself off from saying the words he was going to say. "Spock?" he asked.

Spock's hand almost imperceptibly quickened its stroking motion. "You may say it," Spock said.

"Spock," Jim groaned. "You should say it. You like it, don't you, you want it, don't you, so you just come on and say it."

Spock's mouth actually fell open. "You wish for me to insert my fingers into my cunt."

Jim's hand closed tight around the bulge at his crotch. "God, Spock, that's so nice."

Spock clamped his mouth closed, pressing his lips together, an obvious ache in the expression as his hand moved between his legs. His eyes were fixed on Jim, hungry and dark. "You wish me to perform intercourse with my own phalanges."

"Yeah, shit, you just keep on going like that."

"Human males seem . . ." Spock took a breath, "preternaturally concerned with penetration."

Spock couldn't seem to look away from Jim's hand on his cock, and Jim's hand tightened further as a result. "You're damn right I am."

"The stimulation of the clitoris will probably be sufficient to induce orgasm."

"Probably?" Jim wheezed out a laugh. "You got the odds on that?"

Spock's breath caught, his eyes closing briefly. Must've gotten in a nice stroke, and then his eyes flew open again to fix on Jim. "Seventy eight point three six."

"Yeah." Jim nodded. "Now put your _phalanges_ in that cunt."

Spock's hand at his pussy faltered, and his hips twitched. There was that confusion in his eyes again as he looked up from his pussy to Jim. "It appears . . . a facet of my desire for submission is a partiality for direct instruction."

"You're so good," Jim told him. "You're perfect. Now put those fingers in, like I said. Use the heel of your hand on that nice clit."

And then Spock did it, and there was Spock, riding his hand on the bed, his legs wide open for Jim, his other hand wet from his own cunt and touching his nipples again, circling them just like Jim had told him. That was around when Spock stopped paying attention to Jim, lost in himself, in that body, in the feel of his own fingers inside of him, his own fingers tracing his breast. Spock's mouth was sagging open in a way that was just asking for cock, and Jim had to hold tightly onto himself to stop from coming over the fact that right now Spock looked like the most gorgeous cocksucker ever.

Spock made a little sound.

"You're good," Jim said again.

"Yes."

"You're so wet right now," Jim told him.

"Affirmative."

"You're gonna come," Jim prodded.

"I do not seem able to—I am almost—"

He was almost, but he wasn't there, and Jim wanted to help, because Spock was emoting now. He was allowing himself to emote and the emotion was _frustration_. It wasn't a broad expression, but Jim could see it in the slight knitting of the brows and the achy little movements of that hand at his cunt, and it was Spock jerking himself off in front of him and Jim couldn't help it, he started to get up.

"Stay seated," Spock hissed.

He actually _hissed_, so Jim sat back down. "Put more fingers in," Jim told him. "Push them deeper; bring your other hand down for your clit so you can put your other fingers farther up your cunt."

Spock did as Jim said, and released another little breath.

"Good, now, you've got both hands working you," Jim said, and it was beautiful. The slant of Spock's arms aimed straight for his pussy made a vee that pushed his breasts together, and those fingers were working _hard_ at that cunt, pushing up inside and stroking at his clit.

"You're so good," Jim told him. Spock was kneeling, and Jim knew Spock wanted to explore himself and this was supposed to be about female desire, or something like that, but Jim couldn't help feeling like Spock was on display, just for him, touching himself just for Jim, getting himself off just for Jim. That was probably sexist also, except Jim wondered if maybe that was what Spock really found attractive about this too, and whether that made it any more or less sexist. "You can do it," Jim said. "You're so close, sweetheart."

"At this juncture," Spock said, breathing hard, "I believe the term 'slut' is applicable."

Considering the things Jim had been thinking, that was just wrong in so many ways, and Jim didn't want Spock to think—

"Jim," Spock said. His eyes fixed on Jim, desperate and full of lust. Maybe he looked more _wanting_ than Jim had ever seen him because he was a girl: maybe the more delicate features defined the expression, or maybe Spock was more desperate because he just didn't know how to work that new anatomy to bring himself to orgasm. But maybe it was just that Spock was allowing himself to want. Allowing Jim to see it.

"But you're _such_ a good slut," Jim told him immediately. "Got your hands in your pussy, you're going to come all over them, aren't you, such a pretty slut, touching yourself for me, you're going to come for me."

"That," said Spock, and bucked down into his own hands. Spock made no more sound except for a _huff_ of breath each time his hips twitched down onto his hands. After several of these twitches he slowed, then stopped. The wince in his expression was so slight, Jim thought only he would have been able to see it, but Spock did wince, and took his hands away. He lay back on the bed.

Jim stayed in his chair. There was a brief pause. Then, "Can I fuck you, now?" he said.

Spock looked over at Jim, the turn of his head almost lazy on the bed, and Spock wasn't lazy. Dark eyes drifted over Jim, Jim's tight expression and tighter hand on his cock. Then the dark eyes got darker, and Spock let something show in his face that Jim read as hunger. "I am wet enough to accommodate you," Spock said. "And previously you proved the ability of the female anatomy to achieve multiple orgasms. Therefore, you may."

"Fuck." Jim stood up, coming toward the bed. "Get on your knees."

"In fact, I do not believe the vagina has ceased to secrete." Spock paused thoughtfully. "The muscle will also be looser."

"Shit," Jim said, and grabbed him. He grabbed him and got him on his knees, and Spock didn't make a sound, but complied quickly, and Jim said, "honey, such a good cunt," and he didn't know if making Spock get on his knees so he could do him from behind helped in any way with the issues Spock was having about being sexist, but Jesus, Spock was kneeling for him, waiting for him facing the wall without a protest, so wet and ready for it, all of which caused Jim to repeat, "honey, you're such a good little cunt," as he pushed into Spock from behind.

"Perhaps we might examine your own predilection for that word, irregardless of my own," Spock began, and Jim could tell he had no intent to finish, the _fucker_ was teasing him, and it almost made him wish he could have his Spock's balls back because Jim would fucking _twist_ them for that, and Spock would throw him across the room, but he respected women, he really really did, so instead Jim just said,

"No, we can't. You like it when I'm filthy. Hold onto the headboard."

He was fucking Spock now from behind, long, slow strokes, and Spock was as wet as he'd said and wide open. Jim loved the feel of his ass, a little rounder and plumper, maybe less hairy, but it was still Spock's ass and even though this cunt was perfect, Jim still sort of missed it, missed too the feel of Spock's cock filling him.

"I have been contemplating this issue," Spock was trying to tell him. "There is no logical reason to be aroused by language. It provides no physical stimulus."

"No logical reason," Jim grunted. "Got it. Won't tell you how tight you are. How sopping wet you are for it. I won't tell you what a whore you are, for it, Spock, how you love getting fucked by this big, hard, cock. Not gonna tell you're a good little honey, nice tight sweet piece of ass, got a good tight cunt, got a sweet cunt even when you've got a cock, you're a _whore_ for it even when you've got a cock, just won't admit it, but you've got to own up to it, now, don't you, Spock, because you're just so fucking _wet_—"

"Jim," Spock said, "Jim, _affirmative_—"

Because he really was just that wet for it, so wet even Jim's thighs were wet, and he still had most of his clothes on which meant Spock was so wet and messy he was staining Jim's pants, and Jim said, "You're a good little girl, aren't you, you're such a good little girl—"

And Spock came, the word, "Fascinating," on his lips, because that was without a doubt his _favorite_ word, so obviously the one he said when he got off; it was what _got_ him off, being so _fascinated_ by Jim and his own anatomy and the word cunt, et al.

Jim loved him for it, he adored him, the way the man was so fascinated by everything, it was no wonder he was a slut. Spock just wanted to know it all, and experience it all, and somehow it was that that was making Jim come, even as he kept whispering dirty filthy things.

They lay there afterwards, Spock allowing Jim to hold him again. Jim was sleepy, but he was afraid Spock would get spooked again, or start thinking about feminist existentialism, or something, so he was staying awake just in case. Then Spock turned in his arms, and Jim saw his first officer was asleep. No more analysis, Jim guessed. No more taking things apart and putting them back together, no more observations or ambiguous perceptions. No more words.

Jim found he sort of missed it. He was glad there would always be tomorrow.


End file.
